Chosen
by YouSitUponAThroneOfLies
Summary: Arin is new to Holmes Chapel and has secrets just like everyone else. She's different. And the mark on her right hand promises a future like no other. What happens when she meets the boy with the other tattoo? Vampires. One Direction fanfic. Harry x OC


**So this is my story, it's somewhat based on One Diretion. For some odd reason the site for One Direction fanfictions is really messed up and doesn't allow me to publish anything, so I posted it on here. This is manily a Harry x OC story, so enjoy.**

**~*0*~**

**Prolouge**

I liked moving. Leaving one place after you've made a name for youself and after people have judged you and starting all over again makes me feel like I can do anything. And most importantly, I can be anybody. I felt the familiar butterflies in my stomach as my mother got out of her brand new white 2012 BMW m6. She gave me a weak smile before disappearing into our brand new house.

The neighbourhood was somewhat posh. Everyone's hedges were trimmed, flowerbeds were encircled with precisely placed white stones, and everyone's lawns were coated with a patch of green. It was suburban. Everyone had the newest cars and the most luxurious of pools in the backyard. There were trees at the end of everyone's walkways, bordered off with thin, white picket fences. It seemed like the perfect neighbourhood, the best disguise. That's why my mum had chosen it. No one would suspect a hard working, rich suburban family.

Before you jump to any conclusions I must assure you that my mother and I are not mass murderers running from the police or criminals who had a price on our heads. We did kill people, but it was the only way we could survive. By killing other people. We did have some remorse, but what I am, what many other people are, it's either life or death. Sometimes, you have to kill one person to save many. Whether it's by accident or on purpose.

_"It's going to be different in Holmes Chapel. I know some others there that are just like us. We won't be alone and some of them even attend school like you do."_

My mum's words echoed in my head. It's going to be _different_. She always said it. And she had said it so many times. Maybe she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me. Because the way she said it, the way her words were formed, and the way that she said _them_, she wasn't even sure of it herself. And she just expected me to believe her.

But I didn't. I never did.

After living in the same neighbourhood for a couple years, or ten, you got bored. You got bored of the people, the smells, the clothes, the food, and eventually everything. It had all just emerged into one grey blob of _ordinary. _Maybe that's why we moved. We were both just tired.

We didn't make mistakes though. Never. There wasn't any room for mistakes in the world that we lived in. It was either you do it right or you don't do it at all. I guess for humans, it's different. You learn and thrive off of your mistakes. Feeding off of the never-ending supply of them. You live in a world where people remember when you fuck up, but they never seem to notice the lengths you go to to change it. What I _was, _what I had _become, _it was much more complicated than just 'forgiving and forgetting'. There was none of this 'moving on' and 'getting over it' shit. You just stayed in the present and hoped that you didn't get fucked over.

Dark right? There's always that light at the end of the tunnel though.

I climbed out of the car and was greeted with a rush of fresh air. I smiled and laughed to myself. Maybe this place wasn't so bad.

The house was large. It was located on the corner so we would only have one nosy neighbour to deal with. My mum's decision. There was a large, swerving driveway that would hold another car beside my mums. The house was covered with white paneling except for the side which had the door on it. That side was covered in rough looking marble that was various shades of brown, beiges, and cream colours. It was beautiful, and it looked more homely than any of the other houses I had ever lived in.

My mum was probably restocking the fridge. That was the first thing she did whenever we got to a new house. It was the same order every time. Milk, fruits and vegetbales on the bottom shelf. Eggs, bottes of water, various juices on the middle shelf. Jars of food and containered condiments were on the top. And in the very bottom, the large pull-out compartment that every fridge had, was the important stuff.

The bags of blood.

**Chapter 1**

"I still don't understand why you insist on drinking _that_ crap." I referred to the bags of blood that she was placing carefully into the large compartment of our fridge.

"As if I haven't told you a million times before," she let out a loud sigh before continuing. "it's a personal choice. I'm not going to sit here and try to tell you what you should or should not drink so you should do the same." She shot back. I put my hands up in mocking tone.

"Alright, alright! No need to get all defensive. I just don't get why you want to drink old blood when you can drink it fresh anytime you want to." I smirked, I knew I had the upper hand and I actually enjoyed getting a rise out of her.

"Well, I think you should just stop smart mouthing me and get affiliated with the neighbourhood." She cocked an eyebrow at me and all but slammed the compartment closed and stood up. She brushed her hand off of her pants and started unpacking other random things that, in my opinion, didn't matter at all.

"Has it gotten worse?" Her voice dripped of concern and I pinched the bridge of my nose. I really didn't want to have this conversation.

"Can we just drop this conversation?" It was supposed to come out angry and full of power but instead it came out as a plea, full of sadness.

I heard her gulp and she made her way towards me. I showed her my hand, palm up, and looked away as she inspected it. I already knew the answer to her question and now she did too.

"It's probably just a phase. Have you been drinking anything unhealthy lately?" She asked. I turned to face her, my eyes were red and puffy from the silent crying. She stroked my cheek and I looked down, finally looking at my hand. The source of all of my sadness, and just utter displeasure.

There, spot in the middle of my right hand was the large, dark mark. I moved my hand and it stayed int he same position, etched across my skin.

"Mum, there's something you're not telling me." It was more a statement than a questiona dn I could feel the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I bit my lip and snatched my hand away from hers. I knew by the tone of her voice, that she was holding everything back.

"What the fuck is this?" I lifted my hand up, palm flat and I practically shoved it in her face.

"It's a mark..." She started.

"No shit." I spat.

She cocked an eyebrow at me warningly. I folded my arms over my chest and waited for her to continue.

"I-it means you've been chosen." Her voice shook with every word.

"Chosen for what?" I sounded so _weak._ So vulnerable and I just wanted to sit down and cry. Deep down, at the very back of my mind, I had a pretty good idea of what I was being chosen for. But I needed to hear it from someone else, and in this particular situation, it was my own mother.

"You've been chosen. You and one other person, a male, have been chosen by the counsel, to be the leaders of the new world." She smiled lightly, _proudly. _"A world where our kind is superior to _everyone else._"


End file.
